


A Taste of Hate

by crazyparakiss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, F/M, Infidelity, Minor Teddy Lupin/Victoire Weasley, Name-Calling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:18:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15597060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: When she arches her elegant back, mouth stretched around a silent scream, Teddy enjoys whispering cruel words against her ear, "Toujours Pur."





	A Taste of Hate

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the people who always hold my hands and tell me to finish my crazy ideas, they are the real MVPs. <3

I.

 

 _Carnal lust rules where there is no love of God_. The quote is etched into a vacant portrait of Saint Augustine. "Ironic," Teddy whispers as he stares at the absence—this house is full of sin, there is no god here. Only lust and hate.

Near silent, the door to his right opens, and out steps a pale, narrow foot with perfectly shaped toenails that are lacquered in a nude polish, one that costs more than a day’s worth of food. _Disgusting display of wealth_. Her chiffon gown is deep purple, giving more than a hint of her body line, more than just a whisper of her nipples when Teddy openly sweeps his gaze over her. Unlike the others—those rich, spoilt wives who never knew passion before gold bought them Teddy’s—this one doesn’t blush. She holds his gaze, a challenge in her grey eyes as she cocks her head in a silent command for him to follow. 

They move in quiet, the sounds of the home filling the air between them. Somewhere a grandfather clock chimes the hour, a gong of sound that seems to rattle the stillness, but neither of them feels like breaking the spell. It’s not until they come to a bedroom that the silence shatters. With a rough yank of white hair and the sloppy, messy sounds of a brutal kiss. "More," she hisses, when he disengages with a wet pop. At his teasing grin she taunts, "You don’t get to play coy, I didn’t pay for that." For an old woman her grip is strong and she easily yanks open the zip of his trousers—ruining it, but Teddy doesn’t care, a quick flick of a wrist, and he can right them. Now he doesn’t care to bother, now his focus is her soft, soft hand on his cock. "I miss youth," she murmurs, stroking him with an expert’s grip. 

When he’s in danger of coming, Teddy wraps a hand around her wrist, hissing, "That’s not how we do things, Narcissa." 

Her grin is a shark’s—sharp, predatory. "How do we do things, half-breed?" Because she refuses to speak his name. Even when he could overpower her, do ungodly things to her, Narcissa mocks him with utmost cruelty. 

Teddy prefers her bigotry. It makes gripping her easier as it steals all sympathies the goodness in him might want to find. He’s able to smash his light into submission, allowing all the dark shadows within him to reign supreme. Now, hand in her white hair she releases a shout as Teddy forces her to thin knees. "Come, have a taste of half-breed," he taunts, gripping her hair tighter as he warns, "But mind the teeth." 

To be rebellious there’s barely a scrape—a reminder—that she can bite him at any time. "Cheeky bitch," he murmurs, then groans when her nose brushes the hair at the base of his cock. His head knocks against the wall behind him, his lashes a veil through which he watches the lovely furnishing of this guest room. All the while listening to the lewd, wet sounds that Narcissa creates with her skilled mouth and soft throat. 

"You may leave," she tells him after. As she rights her hair—erasing the reminders of Teddy’s violent passion. Her fingers toyed with a dark lovebite, something like a memory hinted at the corners of her wrinkled mouth, but it’s gone soon. Along with the spot as she murmurs a quiet spell. When he remains motionless beside her, Narcissa slides a harsh look his way and bites, "Is your brain as muddled as your lineage? I told you to leave." 

His smile is not warm—cruel and biting as his tone when he says, "I was imagining you young, funny how beauty must’ve been all you had." 

Hardly a twitch, but Teddy spots it and tries not to show his triumph when she sneers, "Get out of here, you filthy little dog." 

 

II.

 

A few days later he spots Narcissa on Diagon—shopping with her son and grandson. All of them wrapped in merriment, looking of a proper family. Teddy, as a near-orphan, can’t fathom what it’s like to have more than one blood relative. When she lifts her grey gaze to his, he thinks _she’s technically my relative_ , but there’s not an ounce of familial love there. She’s fulfilling a need for him—one of revenge. Same as he fills for her. 

"Half-breed," she hisses when he moves close enough to her, pretending to pass as he moves a stealth hand over her sensitive side. 

"I can smell your need," he whispers in return, and before she can respond he’s gone with a _Pop_. 

"Hurry," she commands the moment he steps from her private Floo. Later that evening. 

"Needy," he murmurs gently even as he shoves her roughly into a chair. Her legs he spreads without warning, his head moving under her skirt to taste the heady prize between soft white legs. 

"Hurry, you cur," she demands with a squeeze of her thighs around his head. 

" _Toujours Pur_ ," he murmurs against her cunt, licking into her with mock gentleness. Worshipping her in ways that make her shout. 

"How do you like that half-breed cock," Teddy taunts, later, when they are in a tangle on her living room rug. Her perfect manicure chipping as she digs her fingers into the plush of it—trying to get a grip to use as leverage for a deeper angle. "Have you ever been touched this deep? Did his pure cock make you scream like mine," his fingers are in her greedy mouth, being wrapped with her tongue and moans. 

"More," she pants into his spit-slick palm. 

"Tell me you’ve had a better fuck than me—lie to me, Narcissa." Teddy fucks her rougher, for emphasis. 

"His was better than yours could ever be," she hisses, glaring over her shoulder at him. "Half-breed, your cock is subpar." There’s a tremble to her strong words, and he chuckles with smug satisfaction. 

Teddy rotates sharp hips, causing her to groan—grey eyes rolling back in her head—and he grins in victory. "Liar." He kisses down the knobs of her spine, "Whisper your credo, bitch, let your ancestors roll in their tombs." 

"No," she whines. Scrambling for more, to take him deeper when he sets a torturously shallow and slow pace. 

"Let me help you remember the words," his voice is kind, a caress that is fake—taunting. " _Toujours Pur_." She comes, and he whispers the words again, "What a failure you are, coming on the cock of a half-breed." 

He comes in her, whispering filth of how he hopes the seed takes root, and she shudders again. 

 

III.

 

"Do you think we will ever get married," Victoire asks him while she rides him, and Teddy’s so focused on maintaining his erection he nearly misses her question. He’s finding it harder and harder to keep interested when he’s fucking women who aren’t old enough to be his gran. 

"And now I’ve gone soft," Teddy replies, glad to have an excuse for his lack of interest. 

"You’re a shit," she mutters, annoyed as she climbs off of him. "It’s been nearly ten years since I’ve left school. I want marriage and kids." 

Teddy pulls a face. "I don’t." 

"Why," she huffs. "I thought all orphans wanted a family." 

"Yes because we’re all like Harry—desperate to fuck our practical sisters full of children," Teddy sneers. He adds, "I know you’ve got some grand delusions that we’ve got to be the next Harry and Ginny, but that’s never gonna happen." Teddy regrets those words when she punches him in the jaw. 

He doesn’t have time to puzzle over his life or the choices he’s made. His Floo chimes with a summons, bringing a grin to his face when he rises to answer the call. 

She’s in her usual sheer evening dress. Poised on a fainting sofa, Narcissa is the picture of elegance and her light lashes flutter when she moves those grey eyes over him. 

"You rang," Teddy gives crosses his arms, leaning against the door jamb, wearing a feral grin. 

"Come, half-breed, and do as you’re paid," she commands. 

His gaze is raw lust as it sweeps over her, "Tsk, tsk, Narcissa, you’re forgetting you have to be more explicit with your commands." His grin grows sharper, "I’m a dim-witted cur, remember?" 

"I want you," she begins, rising from where she was perched, stalking closer. "I want you hard," she grips the front of his trousers for emphasis. "I want you in me, fast and deep and brutal." Her lips ghost his, a grin on her mouth when she murmurs, "Are you capable of fucking me, or do I need a new dog?" 

When she arches her elegant back, mouth stretched around a silent scream, Teddy enjoys whispering cruel words against her ear, " _Toujours Pur_."

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the 2018 Harry Potter Cross Gen Fest. The author will be revealed on August 31.


End file.
